My Way Back to You (Harlequin Large Print Super Romance) (10 page)

The weight he’d been carrying in his chest lightened some. “I’d like that very much.” He hadn’t been sure what the arrangements would be once they got back to Taylor’s Grove, especially since he’d invited himself.

They wheeled their luggage into a large walk-in closet, which contained two overstuffed chairs and a lamp. He pointed in question.

“This is also a safe room.” She showed him the massive steel door pushed back into a pocket in the wall. “There’s one upstairs in Russ’s room, too. And the basement has a wine cave that doubles as a storm shelter.”

He shook his head in mock wonder. “You’re certainly prepared for disaster.”

“I try to be. I’m a mom.”

A twinge of sadness darted through him—sadness that life had dealt her enough disaster that she prepared for it now. A far cry from the carefree girl he’d known all those years ago.

He reached for her, brushing his fingers down her spine. She leaned in and kissed him softly, chasing away the fleeting twinge.

By the time they finished the tour of the house—two full baths and three additional bedrooms upstairs, and another that had been transformed into a game room—it was after one o’clock.

“You want to see the basement tonight, or are you ready to go to bed?” she asked as they came down the stairs.

“I’m exhausted from the drive, but I don’t think I can sleep just yet. I need to unwind.”

At the bottom of the stairs, she turned and gave him an awkward glance. “I’m pretty upset about Dad, Jeff. I don’t think—”

“Oh, please, Mags.” He threw an arm across her shoulders and directed her toward the kitchen. “You think I’d suggest sex after the day we’ve had?”

The tension released from her shoulders as they dropped in relief. “How about a Scotch on the patio? It might be a fitting end to this day and relax me enough to sleep.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “You drink Scotch?”

“Macallan 25.”

“The surprises just keep on coming.”

They stopped at the bar on the back porch, and she retrieved the bottle and two heavy crystal glasses. “Ice?” she asked, and he shook his head.

“Me, neither.” She laughed quietly. “I can’t imagine diluting that fabulous peat flavor.”

She poured them each a couple of fingers and then cocked her head in question. “How about enjoying this in the hot tub?” Without waiting for a response, she began taking off her clothes. Watching her undress caused his body to stir in spite of his fatigue, so when he undressed there was no place for his erection to hide.

She just grinned and shook her head slightly as she handed him his drink and led him outside.

The temperature of the hot tub was perfect, and the Macallan was perfect. But it was the twinkling fireflies, like tiny living stars, that caused his breath to catch.

“I haven’t seen fireflies since I left here.”

“Lightning bugs,” she corrected with a grin. “They’re one of my favorite things about summer.”

He followed one in flight, looking up just in time to see a bright shooting star streak across the sky.

“Ooh.” Maggie’s face broke into a dazzling smile. “Make a wish.” She closed her eyes.

He took a sip of his Scotch. It burned a path all the way down into his chest. He didn’t need to wish. The only thing he wanted to wish for could never come true.

It was impossible to rewind the past sixteen years.

But if he could, he would handle things...and this woman beside him...much, much differently.

CHAPTER TEN

“M
AGGIE
!” E
MMY
L
OU
’
S
EXUBERANCE
exploded over the phone line and into Maggie’s car. “Puh-leeze tell me you’re making a serious dent in your shoe budget and not really spending your Chicago time in museums. You want to look at old stuff? I’ll let you wax Hiram Caper’s back the next time he comes in. Ew! Ew! Ew!”

Maggie made the expected gagging sound as she pulled from her lane onto the county road. “Aw, c’mon, Emmy. You know Hiram saves his fur for that coat you’re weaving.” Retching sounds met her ear. “Anyway, I’m not in Chicago anymore. I had to come home early. Remember how you thought Dad’s color was off last week? Well, you were right.” She went on to explain.

“I
knew
it!
But, oh, Maggie, I’m so sorry! How’s Rosemary doing?”

“She was upset when we spoke yesterday, but I haven’t talked to her this morning. I’m headed over there now.”

After stewing about it all night, she’d decided that coming clean with her parents about her houseguest seemed like the best plan of action. Jeff agreed, even suggesting he go with her, but she’d declined his offer. The bomb was hers to drop...but she wasn’t looking forward to dealing with the fallout.

“Give them hugs from me. And, gosh, you, too,” Emmy went on. “You sure didn’t need
this
on top of moving Russ and having to put up with Jerk-off Jeff.”

Maggie cringed. Emmy had never met Jeff, but over the years, her friend had developed an intense dislike for him, fueled mostly by Rosemary and Eli’s skewed opinions. “Jeff and I actually got along pretty well, considering...” She let her voice trail off. There were a couple of different ways she could finish that sentence.
Considering
we’ve gone through a box of condoms since Wednesday night
or
considering he held me close all through the night,
but she didn’t want to open up any of that for discussion. Sometime later...not now. It was a conversation that required time...and alcohol...and was sure to be more fun than the version she planned to have with her parents in a few minutes.

Emmy completed the thought. “Considering he’s the jerk-off who left you brokenhearted and leery of relationships for years.”

Yeah...and that.

“I hope you weren’t
too
nice to him,” Emmy continued. “Just enough to send him back to California with a painful hard-on every time he thinks about you.”

“Well...let’s just say I tried.” Maggie caught a glimpse of her grin in the rearview mirror.

“Good girl. You want to go out tonight? It’d be good for you. Get your mind off your dad.”

“I don’t think so, Emmy. After the bustle of the city and the long drive yesterday, I’m ready for a night at home. Maybe watch a movie or something.” Sharing part of her actual plans with her friend helped to alleviate some of the guilt she felt for her duplicity. Steaks on the grill, a bottle of wine, maybe a movie, maybe a swim—those were the ideas she and Jeff had tossed about in bed this morning. A nice, quiet evening at home.

“I understand, girlfriend. You need anything from me?”

“Just keep the business out of bankruptcy.” Maggie threw up a hand and waved to Nell Bradley as their cars passed.

Emmy snorted. “No chance of that. We’ve been full to the gills with that back-to-school special. If I have to tell one more kid to sit still, I’m gonna consider adding a Taser to the end of my comb.”

“You can’t use a Taser on a kid!”

“Not for the kid. I’d zap the mamas. If they’d go sit down and shut their traps long enough for me to do my job, the kids wouldn’t be so squirmy.”

“Or we could start serving martinis and wine. Jeff told me a lot of the salons in California do that.”

“Well, do tell.” Emmy gave a boisterous laugh. “Kentucky bourbon would be more appropriate, I think.”

“Or moonshine.” The turn onto Main Street came into view, and Maggie flipped on her signal.

“Speaking of which, I’ve got a new batch made. I’ll bring you a jar.”

“Apple pie?”

“Yes, ma’am, with whipped cream vodka.”

“Mmm. Can’t wait.” Maggie’s mouth watered just thinking about Emmy’s spicy, homemade, deliciously deceptive concoction. It tasted nothing like the stuff Jeff’s friend Toad used to make in the still he’d built in his barn. But like Toad’s, Emmy’s could knock a mule on its ass in no time flat. “I’m in Taylor’s Grove now, Em. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Call me if you need me.”

Emmy dropped the call on her end as Maggie made the curve around Yager Circle and turned right on Walnut. A short distance up the road brought her to Baxter Hill and her childhood home. Her mom must’ve heard her pull up. She was waiting at the door, face furrowed into a frown by the time Maggie made it to the top of the steps.

“You didn’t do like I asked, did you? You drove all the way home last night.”

Maggie shrugged. “I was anxious to get here.”

“I would’ve been worried sick if I’d known you were out on that highway at night all by yourself.”

Maggie wondered which would have actually worried her more—knowing her daughter was on the highway alone or knowing she’d made the trip with her ex in the car with her?

Maggie gave her a quick hug. “And yet here I am, all in one piece. Where’s Dad?”

“Here.” His signature growl came from the kitchen.

She leaned over and whispered, “How’s he doing?”

“Better than me,” her mom whispered back as they entered the house.

She found her dad standing at the sink with a cup of coffee poised at his lips. She kissed his cheek and then stood back to take a good look at him. “You look like the picture of health to me.” She opted for the lie, trying to contain her fear. Both Mom and Emmy had commented on his color during the past few weeks, but Maggie hadn’t seen it until now.
Death warmed over
was the horrifying term that came to her.

He winked, closing a lid over a bloodshot eye that obviously hadn’t rested much through the night. “Nothing wrong that getting away from your mom’s nagging won’t help. I’m kind of looking forward to the vacation.” He slurped his coffee noisily.

So he wasn’t ignoring the elephant in the room, merely downplaying its size. Whatever device he needed to use in order to cope was okay by her.

“Bet Mom feels the same.” She got a cup from the cupboard and poured some coffee. “But I want to hear the details of what’s going to happen Monday.”

Her dad’s grin faltered. “Lots of time to discuss that. First things first. Tell me about my grandson’s new home, then you can fill me in on how the son of a bitch is doing.”

The way his face flushed to bright red wasn’t nearly as alarming as the movement of his hand to the area over his heart. Had he felt a twinge? Merely at the mention of Jeff?

The gesture caused a stall in Maggie’s own heart as well as her tongue...and shot her good intentions of a conversation with her parents all to hell.

A heart-to-heart conversation about Jeff was unthinkable until her dad’s heart got fixed.

* * *

R
OSEMARY
WATCHED
THE
subtle changes come over her daughter’s face. The normal ivory complexion fluctuated to deep pink while the tension around the eyes softened. Her lips puckered as if kissing an unseen entity.

Oh, dear.
This was bad. Very bad.

Rosemary didn’t need this on top of everything else she had to worry about. Her breakfast pulled on its army boots and started marching a cadence inside her stomach.

Just as quickly as the changes on her face occurred, Maggie seemed to catch herself, covering her momentary hesitation with a gulp of coffee.

“Russ is in love with Chicago and Loyola, both. He’s already made lots of friends, and he and Jeff and another boy and his dad won the parent/child tournament, so he’s established a bit of a name for himself.” She laughed and wrinkled her nose. “Mom, you should’ve seen the ugly lamp he fished out of the trash bin. It’s a leg lamp and it’s hideous, so, of course, he thought it was the greatest find ever.” She laid her hand on her dad’s arm. “He wanted to come home for your surgery.”

“Dadgummit!” A disgruntled sigh exploded from Eli’s lips. “Y’all are trying to make this into a much bigger deal than it is.”

“It
is
a big deal, Dad.” Maggie’s tone sharpened. “And there’s no use acting like it isn’t. It’s open-heart surgery and it’s serious. But I did some research yesterday on the way home—”

“How could you do research while you were driving?” Rosemary watched her daughter’s eyes widen, and she looked like she had when she was three years old and had just cut her own bangs to a quarter inch.

“I...um...well, not actually
while
I was driving. But I had my tablet with me, so I read about the surgery when I made a rest stop. And this morning.” Her eyes darted away as she took another sip of her coffee.

She was lying. Her discomfort niggled at the base of Rosemary’s instincts.
Why
would she lie about something so minor?

“Anyway, I didn’t want him missing his first match.” Maggie shifted the conversation back to Russ. “I promised we’d keep him informed during the surgery.”

“I have confidence the doctor knows what he’s doing.” Eli stuffed his hand into the pocket of his overalls—his signal that the conversation was over. “Now fill us in on the son of a bitch.”

That odd expression flickered across Maggie’s face again. It was gone in an instant, but it
had
been there.

“Jeff’s fine.” She nodded as if agreeing with her own statement. “We got along well. No arguments. No bickering. In fact, being around each other after all this time was probably good for us. We made our peace.”

Something in Maggie’s tone caused a prickle to tiptoe across Rosemary’s scalp, and she realized it was her daughter’s
lack
of emotion. The words were too modulated...too controlled.

She tried to ignore the way her gut twisted “What does he look like now?”

A shrug. A sigh. “Handsome as ever. The years have been good to him.”

Yes, her tone was too casual. Shouldn’t there be
some
disgust or peevishness...something?

Realization dawned and words poured out on a wave of motherly incredulity. “Oh, my Lord, Maggie. Don’t.”

Maggie’s hand trembled as the cup paused halfway to her mouth. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t be taken in by that boy again.”

“He’s not a boy. He’s thirty-eight.”

Aha! A defensive tone.
Rosemary’s jaw and fists clenched simultaneously. “I don’t care
what
he is. He broke your heart once, and he’ll do it again if you let him.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mom.”

“Dadgummit, Rosemary. I’ve told you before.” Eli’s arm swung up to rest on their daughter’s shoulder. “Our Maggie wouldn’t fall for that lying son of a bitch again. She’s too smart. Give the girl some credit.”

“I’m not a girl anymore, either, Dad. I’m thirty-seven.” Her eyes shifted between them, giving each a level look. “I divorced one husband and buried another, so it’s not like I’ve been living in a cave somewhere.”

Worry continued to pummel Rosemary’s insides. “I hear your words, but I don’t hear any denial.”

Maggie rolled her eyes and let her head fall back in exasperation. “Mom, you wear me out.”

“See!” Strong alarms were going off now. “Still no denial.”

“You just have to ignore your mother right now, Maggie.” Eli feigned a sad look and shook his head. “She’s had a bad case of optical rectitus ever since we talked to that doctor.”

Maggie leaned away from him with a questioning look. “What’s that?”

“Optical rectitus?” He grinned. “That’s an inflammation of the nerve that runs from the eyeball to the asshole and gives her a shitty outlook on life.”

Maggie had chosen the wrong time to finally take a large gulp. As she burst out in laughter, coffee spewed in all directions—including down the front of her dad’s favorite overalls.

Irritation bubbled up in Rosemary. Not from the mess—Maggie began cleaning that up immediately—but from the fact they were siding against her, trying to act as if she was way out in left field when every instinct in her told her she was right.

She knew Maggie better than anybody...maybe better than Maggie knew herself.

She glared at Eli, and then a movement outside caught her eye. Stella Fremont was headed up the front walk. Bree Barlow must have called her mother and filled her in on the news of Eli’s surgery. It looked as though Stella had a basket of her friendship bread with her.

“Y’all quit your nonsense now. We’ve got company.”

She hurried to greet her friend, glad for the chance to step away from the scary subject for a while.

Even more glad that Jeff Wells was all the way across the country...far away from her daughter at this time when she was especially vulnerable.

* * *

F
OR
THE
five-hundred-and-twenty-seventh time, Jeff glanced out the window, hoping to see Maggie’s car coming up the driveway, and then chastised himself for being so excited about being with her again. It had been a long day, filled with plenty of activity, so he couldn’t really say he was bored...just restless.

Maggie had assured him before she left that no one would come out to her place today because she was still supposed to be in Chicago. Making her appearance in town would be like hanging out a visitors-welcome sign, though, so tomorrow they might have company.

But by then, Eli and Rosemary would know he was here.

He’d set out to clean the house but found very little that needed doing except a bit of dusting. A set of old golf clubs in the garage—Zeke’s maybe?—provided a morning of practice on his son’s homemade driving range. It occurred to him while he was taking some swings that, if he lived there with Russ and Maggie, he would have built a putting green, as well. But the thought reiterated itself that he
didn’t
live there with them, and with that his enthusiasm for using the driving range vanished. He returned the clubs to where he’d found them.